


Painting Lessons

by ladyoakenshields



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Shire, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6659974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoakenshields/pseuds/ladyoakenshields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin had been acting bizarre for well over a month now. Bilbo was curious as to what was making his husband behave so strangely, but he wasn’t too worried. He knew it couldn’t be anything too scandalous because if that were the case, Bilbo would have heard the gossip already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting Lessons

Thorin had been acting bizarre for well over a month now. Bilbo was curious as to what was making his husband behave so strangely, but he wasn’t too worried. He knew it couldn’t be anything too scandalous because if that were the case, Bilbo would have heard the gossip already.

However, Bilbo’s interest was eventually piqued when Thorin had gotten a strange package one evening from a raven from Erebor. Bilbo had seen Thorin accept the parcel in the garden as the sun was going down and the raven took off as soon as Thorin freed it from the package it carried.

“Did you at least offer for the raven to come inside and have dinner?” Bilbo asked as he heard the door open. There was a mumbled reply and Thorin disappeared down the hall. “Thorin?” Bilbo called with a frown. He sighed as he heard Thorin come back down the hallway and return to his armchair beside the fire in the parlor.

Bilbo waited until they were both seated at the dining table for dinner to broach the topic.

“What was the parcel the raven brought? That was more than your family’s usual letters.” Bilbo questioned as Thorin swallowed his first bite. Thorin inhaled and choked a little on his food.

“J-Just a care package of sorts,” Thorin explained, wiping his mouth with a napkin and refused to meet Bilbo’s gaze. Bilbo hummed and nodded.

“What was in it?” Bilbo questioned as he took another bite of food.

“Nothing important,” Thorin shrugged.

“Come on, Thorin,” Bilbo rolled his eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” Thorin looked guilty.

“Thorin, you literally jumped up, ran out to the yard to receive an odd package from a raven from Erebor and smuggled it inside all while insisting you aren’t hiding anything.”

Thorin grumbled with a shrug as he busied himself with the dinner before him.

“It’s all right, I’ll find out at some point,” Bilbo shrugged. “We’ve been married for thirty years, there’s not much you can hide from me now.”

Thorin gave his husband a sheepish look before complimenting the food.

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

**x**

A few days later, Bilbo sat in the kitchen, sipping his tea as he watched Thorin wander into the pantry and glance through what they had. Thorin seemed to take a mental tally of everything before giving a defeated sigh and joining him in the kitchen.

“I think I’ll go down to the market today and pick up something fresh,” Thorin explained as he helped himself to a cup of tea. Bilbo hummed thoughtfully.

Thorin’s trips to the markets had been the main source of his bizarre behaviors. After Thorin wandered down to market one afternoon earlier in the season, he’d began taking more solo trips and they began to get longer and longer. What started out as an hour or two slowly turned into the whole afternoon. Occasionally, Thorin would even miss tea time and barely make it home in time for dinner.

Bilbo decided that It was about time he got some answers.

“Maybe I’ll go down to the market with you. I need to pick up some things before dinner tonight.”

“Just tell me and I’ll be sure to pick them up for you,” Thorin readily offered.

“Nonsense,” Bilbo smiled innocently. “I need to get out of the house for a little bit. You go down to the market by yourself so often any more, I’m starting to feel a little neglected.”

“You know it isn’t like that, Bilbo. Really, I just don’t mind running errands is all,” Thorin explained.

“Well, good. Then you won’t mind running errands with your husband,” Bilbo decided.

Thorin didn’t utter a word further, knowing that there was no way to discourage Bilbo from going once he had made up his mind.

Bilbo fetched his cloak and waited for Thorin to meet him at the door with the basket they usually took to market. Just as he was beginning to grow impatient Thorin appeared with the basket and a picnic blanket folded over the top of _something_ in his basket. Bilbo decided to say nothing, knowing that everything would be revealed in time.

“Ready?” Bilbo asked as he pulled the front door open. Thorin swallowed thickly and muttered an answer which was inaudible to Bilbo’s sharp ears.

They walked in silence except for the occasional _chink, chink, chink_ of whatever was in the basket Thorin carried. Bilbo wracked his brain of every possibility as more and more clues revealed themselves to Bilbo.

Eventually they reached the fork in the path that led down to the Green Dragon Inn as well as the rest of the market. Instead of heading that way, Thorin directed them in the opposite direction.

“Thorin, market was down that way,” Bilbo remarked as they started down the incorrect path. Thorin sighed.

“The thing is…we’re not going to market,” Thorin admitted.

“Is that so?” Bilbo asked, in a completely unsurprised tone. Whatever Thorin was hiding, it wasn’t actually at market. “So do you care to tell me exactly where we’re going now?”

“I don’t even know where to begin exactly,” Thorin started. “It was a couple weeks ago when you asked me to run down to the market while you prepared dinner because you’d forgotten the herbs that you usually pair with your fried fish…” Thorin began. Bilbo prepared himself for a lengthy anecdote. Thorin had no idea how to be concise and to the point about these things. Thorin went on to describe the weather of that particular day and then on to the hobbits he’d seen down at market, distracting himself by telling Bilbo the gossip he’d heard.

“All right, Thorin, get to the point,” Bilbo interrupted as he linked his arm in Thorin’s with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m getting there,” Thorin insisted as he continued. “Anyway, I was perusing the seeds as Missus Fairfoot’s stall, because as you know our garden is looking a little sparse…”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as Thorin continued to ramble on about their garden as they continued to walk along one of the many little paths of the Shire. Thorin was still talking about the hobbit lass he’d started a conversation with at market when they turned the corner and Bilbo spotted a gathering of hobbits in a sunny field.

“...and that’s when Missus Fairfoot invited me to attend her painting class,” Thorin finally concluded as one of the women noticed they were coming up the path and waved to them.

“Painting class?” Bilbo scrunched up his nose in confusion. It wasn’t what he was expecting, but Bilbo wasn’t really sure what he was expecting.

“It’s quite relaxing,” Thorin admitted.

“I suppose it would be,” Bilbo frowned. He’d never considered it as a hobby before, but it sounded nice. He wondered why Thorin had been hiding this from him, but he didn’t have a chance to ask. They approached the gathering of hobbits who, Bilbo could now see, had easels set up with canvases set up on them.

“Good afternoon, Master Oakenshield!” Bilbo recognized Missus Fairfoot from her stall at market. “You brought Master Baggins with you! Good afternoon to you too, Master Baggins. If I had known I would have brought extra canvases.” Missus Fairfoot frowned.

“Good afternoon,” Bilbo smiled politely. “No need. I’m just here to observe and spend some time with my husband,” Bilbo explained as looked around the group and recognized several of the other hobbits in the group including Miss Cotton, Missus Burrows, Missus Chubb, Miss Bracegirdle and Miss Boffin.

“We’re happy to have you, Master Baggins,” Miss Cotton welcomed him.

“Thank you,” Bilbo smiled.

“Have your paints come in at last, Master Oakenshield?” Missus Fairfoot asked Thorin, referring to his basket on his arm.

“Oh yes,” Thorin nodded pulling back the picnic blanket that laid over the contents in the basket Thorin had brought along. There were small jars at the bottom, almost like jam and jelly jars, but these were a little smaller and had brilliant colors inside. They almost reminded him of some of the jewels he had seen during his and Thorin’s rule in Erebor after the fall of Smaug. Thorin pulled them out and set them on one of the small tables that held brushes and other supplies. The hobbits gathered around to pick up the jars and look at the colors inside.

“These are exquisite,” Missus Fairfoot sighed.

“You’d be surprised by the colors some of the minerals in the mountains can produce,” Thorin explained. “I hope there’s enough here for everyone to try a little of each color.”

“Oh, there’s plenty,” Missus Fairfoot assured him.

“You had that old raven bring you _jars_ of paint?” Bilbo frowned as he also looked through some of the jars for himself. “The poor thing.” Bilbo tsked. “All the way from Erebor carrying that much weight, I can’t imagine.”

Bilbo’s remarks seemed to have gone unnoticed as the others began to set up for their class. Missus Fairfoot helped dole out the best colors for their painting onto individual palettes and the painters chose several paintbrushes from her own basket of supplies. As each hobbit settled into their respective spots, Bilbo saw a potential problem.

“Oh, I’m rather afraid I’ve disturbed the usual routine,” Bilbo sighed as he looked around at the precise number of stools that accompanied the easels and canvases.

“You’re the one who insisted on coming,” Thorin smirked as he pulled the picnic blanket from the basket and spread it out on the ground.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you’d just told me what you were doing in the first place,” Bilbo argued. “What are you doing?” Bilbo asked as Thorin picked up his canvas and set the easel to the side before Thorin took a seat on the blanket.

“Are you quite sure you won’t need that?” Bilbo asked anxiously.

“I’d rather sit beside you,” Thorin insisted, as he patted the spot next to him, gesturing to Bilbo to sit beside him. “I can keep the canvas on my lap while I paint.” Bilbo gave in and cautiously lowered himself to the ground.

“We’re too old for this,” Bilbo complained. “Oh, my knees are going to go out,” he groaned quietly to himself.

Soon the class started and Bilbo laid back on the picnic blanket, using his folded cloak to cushion his head. He enjoyed basking in the warm sun as he listened to Missus Fairfoot lead the class. Eventually everything fell quiet except the occasional chatter between the others in the class.

“Already fallen asleep?” Thorin asked softly.

“Mm, no,” Bilbo sighed. “Just enjoying the warm weather.”

“Missus Burrows brought honey scones,” Thorin mentioned. “Thought you might want one.”

“What?” Bilbo sat up, his eyes searching for the hobbit with the scones. Thorin gave a warm laugh.

“Missus Burrows, Bilbo would like to sample one of your scones,” Thorin called to her.

“Oh, of course,” Missus Burrows brought her basket filled with scones over to them. Bilbo gratefully took a honey lathered scone.

“Thank you, very much,” Bilbo thanked her before taking a bite. “Doesn’t seem like that smart of a snack around paint.” Bilbo noted after he swallowed his bite of scone and realizing how sticky the scones were.

“Many of us save the scones until after we’re done for the afternoon,” Missus Burrows replied as she replaced the sticky handkerchief over the basket to keep the bugs away from the treats. “However, a few of us like to snack on them before,” Missus Burrows explained, her eyes drifting over to Miss Cotton who was polishing off her own scone. Missus Burrows went back to her own canvas and paint.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your new hobby?” Bilbo asked before licking the last of the honey off his fingers. “Were you embarrassed by it?”

“Embarrassed? No,” Thorin chuckled. “I don’t believe so. I suppose I wanted to wait until I was good enough.”

“Good enough for what?” Bilbo furrowed his brows.

“I was going to surprise you by painting a composition featuring Bag End. I was hoping to paint it to honor the anniversary of the fateful day of our meeting, but…”

“Oh, I’ve ruined the surprise,” Bilbo realized, sounding sincerely upset. “I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t been so secretive.”

“There was no easy way to keep the surprise and not be secretive. The definition of surprise is keeping secrets until the surprise is revealed.” Thorin rebuked.

“I suppose you’re right,” Bilbo sighed and leaned back as he watched Thorin’s brush move over the canvas and a thought occurred to him. “Do you have your other pieces? I’d like to see them.”

“Missus Fairfoot has kept some of my pieces for me. I didn’t want to bring them home with me as it would ruin my so called ‘secrecy,’” Thorin explained.

“You’ve roped Missus Fairfoot into your little scheme?” Bilbo gave an exasperated sigh.

“Yes?” Missus Fairfoot turned towards them. “I heard my name. Was there a question?” Missus Fairfoot asked Thorin.

“Oh.” Thorin turned to look to the instructor and shook his head. “Bilbo was just wanting to see a few of my other pieces. You don’t happen to have them on you…do you?”

“Oh, yes, I have a few of them on me, I believe. I haven’t unpacked my supplies from the past couple weeks. I’ll go fetch them for you.”

They were quiet as they watched the hobbit head back to her pile of supplies and soon she was headed back to them.

“Here you are, Master Baggins.” Missus Fairfoot handed him a small pile of canvases that had been taken off the frames they had been stretched over. “They’re easy enough to stretch over the frame again, if you’d like,” Missus Fairfoot informed them. “This just makes them easier for transport and storage.”  

Bilbo spread the paintings out and took the pieces of parchment out that separated the paintings.

“We’ll be taking them home with us today. Sorry about the troubles,” Bilbo murmured as he looked them over.

“It’s been no problem at all,” Missus Fairfoot assured him. “Enjoy.” She smiled at them before she started to wander over to some of the other hobbits to check their progress.

“Thorin, these pieces are really good,” Bilbo commented.

“It’s been Missus Fairfoot’s teachings,” Thorin hummed as he continued to work. “She’s been very helpful and encouraging.”

“Mm, I think I’ll employ you as an illustrator for my book,” Bilbo muttered as he continued to shift through the pieces.

“Now, that’s much more of a challenging thing,” Thorin remarked. “It’s different to work from imagination, compared to working from observation.”

“So, does this mean I can’t comission you to do one of our second home, Erebor, to match your upcoming masterpiece of Bag-End?”

Thorin hummed as he thought it over.

“Perhaps. I seem to have committed the image of Erebor to my imagination permanently,” Thorin admitted. “I don’t suppose that wouldn’t pose too much of a challenge.” Bilbo smiled warmly.

“I’ll never forget my first glimpse of the mountain from Carrock.” Bilbo sighed wistfully.

“It’s one of my favorite memories of the quest,” Thorin smiled.

“ _Our home_ , you had said,” Bilbo chuckled. “All right, so Bag-End will be a gift—the surprise I ruined—but I want to commission you for one of Erebor, to hang beside it. What are your rates for your commissions?” Bilbo asked playfully. Thorin laughed at Bilbo’s insistence as he contemplated the question.

“Hm,” Thorin sighed thoughtfully. “How about...one kiss,” Thorin decided.

“You could do better,” Bilbo sighed. “If you’re going to charge something, charge properly.”

“Five kisses,” Thorin bartered.

“Oh, I’ll commission you, Master Oakenshield!” a voice cried teasingly beside them. Bilbo looked over his shoulder to see that their conversation hadn’t been very private.

“He only paints for one hobbit in the Shire, Miss Bracegirdle,” Bilbo quickly retorted before turning to reply to Thorin. “Very well, if those are your terms. Would you like payment now, or later?” Thorin blushed, feeling the eyes of the others upon them.

“Later would be acceptable,” Thorin gave an embarrassed smile.

“Very well,” Bilbo chuckled as he picked up another one of Thorin’s pieces to survey.

“My husband: King of Erebor, slayer of Orcs and master of the paintbrush,” Bilbo smiled to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Completed for the [anunexpectedanniversary event on tumblr](http://anunexpectedanniversary.tumblr.com) to celebrate the anniversary of Bilbo and Thorin's first meeting. 
> 
> If you'd like to read another quick anniversary drabble from me you can find it [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4908727/chapters/11260555) (You can consider this as a sequel(ish) (give or take a year) to that ficlet as they're about the same age in that ficlet. What can I say? I am Too Weak™ for elderly!Bagginshield retired-in-The Shire AUs.) 
> 
> This was a drabble that had been scratching away in my mind since I've recently just completed a 'Topics in Colors' class that required an insane amount of painting. (If you follow me [on tumblr](http://hobbitunderthemountain.tumblr.com) you might have seen me gripe about this class quite a bit. So this is also in celebration of being done with that class!!)
> 
> Happy Unexpected Anniversary everyone!!


End file.
